


Mrs. Tanaka

by InkWitch (serkestic)



Category: Ao Haru Ride
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Moving In Together, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27642773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serkestic/pseuds/InkWitch
Summary: “You’re right… you were totally different. Forget this stingy Kou of now, I want my first love back,” sighed Futaba dramatically. She clasped her hands at his nape, leaning in. “My first love Tanaka.”Kou’s hands flexed on her hips involuntarily. Futaba grinned. “Ah, is that it? Tanaka?”“Shut up,” said Kou.In which Kou and Futaba move in together, and reminisce.
Relationships: Mabuchi Kou/Yoshioka Futaba
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Mrs. Tanaka

The movers left at 3pm; their tiny apartment, with its tiny kitchen and tiny balcony off the bedroom, now overcrowded with their belongings and boxes. Kou almost regretted not accepting Aya and Shuuko’s help in unpacking. He surveyed the many, _many_ storage containers and wondered how two people could accumulate so much debris.

“You know, if you don’t nag at me to start working,” said Futaba musingly. “I’m going to get out the futon and just nap.”

“ _Absolutely_ not,” he said, flicking her forehead.

“You’re such a jerk, Kou.”

It took them two hours to organize their kitchen, but that was the easy part since Kou and Futaba’s mother had done the helpful thing and labelled the boxes. It was simply a matter of putting things in their place. When it came to tackling their bedroom, Kou was almost ready to give up. On the other hand, his girlfriend was clearly enjoying herself, having claimed the unpacking of Kou’s things.

“This is so cute, you really kept so many things from high school. Oh, look at this! Kou, you’re so _cute_.”

He dragged a hand over his face, refusing to let her see him blushing. “If you’re going to coo over everything, this is going to take us all night.”

She threw him a haughty look. “ _You_ haven’t even started on my stuff; _you_ don’t get to talk.”

“I just finished wiping down the kitchen!”

“Uh-huh, anyway, why keep so many notebooks? You’re such a hoarder.”

“I don’t even finish using most of them,” he said, settling down in front of Futaba’s biggest box. It undoubtedly carried her clothes. “It’d be a waste of paper if I just threw them away. I can tear out pages when I need some.”

“Or you could just _finish_ a notebook…”

They settled into a quiet busyness. As Kou took out Futaba’s clothes, folding them carefully in categorized piles—her t-shirt pile grew to a tower in a matter of minutes, how can a girl own _so many t-shirts_ —it struck him that he was handling her wardrobe, things she _wore_. Their backs leaned against each other; Kou was used to physical closeness with her. Both of them loved casually touching each other, the reassurance of physical presence. But the domesticity of this, taking care of Futaba’s clothes, being together in the same space, they were _moving in together_ … Kou was suddenly almost overwhelmed by the intimacy of the fact. He glanced back. Futaba was smiling quietly as she perused his old notebooks and papers. He looked back at his hands, holding a pretty blue summer dress. He could feel his face getting hotter and redder and tried to focus on unpacking. How could Futaba be so calm?

He looked back at her and she was biting her lip this time, reading class notes from college. They’d gone to separate university. It was hard work, being in a long-distance relationship right after so much trouble just getting to each other. Futaba had had terrible separation anxiety, constant nightmares of Kou disappearing no matter how much he called her at night. Kou had been a wreck of nerves any time Futaba made new connections and friends, people he didn’t recognize or relate to. But they’d gotten past those years and they were finally _together_ now. An unprecedented chapter in the story of Kou and Futaba.

She wasn’t unfazed by it at all, Kou realized. She was engrossed… she was captivated by _him_. In learning everything about him; things she missed, and things she didn’t.

“Oh.”

“What?”

Kou glanced back and saw _the_ notebook in her hands, flat open to the empty page with her name. That stupid middle school exercise book! Why hadn’t he thrown that out! Futaba looked up at him with a pink face and a smirk. “Aha, found your secret, did I?”

He struggled to keep his face stoic. “Okay, you can throw that away, I’m done using it.”

“No _way_. This is _mine_ now.” She burst into laughter, hugging the book close and wriggling away when Kou made an aborted move to grab her. “You _liked_ me, you _really_ _liked_ me!!”

“This is established fact already, Futaba,” said Kou, caving and burying his face in his hands. “We’re dating.”

“Yeah but you _liiiked_ me~!”

He turned his back on her resolutely and shoved his hand into her clothes box. “Okay whatever, I’m going back to work now. You know, we _need_ to finish if we want a place to sleep by…” His hand hit the hard corner of something buried under Futaba’s dresses. It was wrapped in a silky scarf, clearly to be hidden in plain sight. A lightbulb went off in Kou’s head: did he find her _diary_? Futaba was still giggling over her find, going throw the rest of the pages, so Kou used her distraction to take the journal out. A thick book with a sky-blue cover with cute stickers adorning it; Kou bit back a smile. He kept it in the box as he flipped it open. Futaba wasn’t a dedicated journal keeper. Most of the pages just had drawings and scribbles; some spreads she scrapbooked on, some of them she’d used as a photo album of their high school group. He flipped to the back and his name caught his eye.

_Tanaka Futaba._

Jackpot.

It was a doodle page, crammed with his last name _Tanaka_. The round over-cutesy handwriting indicated that this was also middle school Futaba’s work. She’d experimented with their names: Tanaka Futaba, Tanaka-Yoshioka, Tanaka & Yoshioka, Tanaka & Futaba. She’d written his name out character-by-character. Kou felt his glee rise over the blatant crush behavior. “Mmm, _Fu-ta-ba_ , guess what I found…” His eye caught on a small scribble in the bottom corner, crossed over resolutely with a thick line. Time had faded the ink though, and he could read it.

 _I love Tanaka_.

“Kou! How dare you!”

She slammed into his back, purposefully wailing into his ear, and Kou dropped the diary. “Hey, wait a minute—”

“You jerk, jerk Kou! That’s my _diary_ , idiot!”

“You opened my notebooks and—”

“That’s not the same thing, this is _private_ , idiot Kou!” She hit him with every word and Kou turned to catch her wrists. She threw herself forward and shoved him to the floor, pummeling at him with a bright red face. “Idiot! Jerk!”

“Futaba, _wait_ …” He finally caught her hands and pinned them to his chest. Her eyes were shut tight and he had the nagging feeling that she might be holding back tears of embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“I can’t believe you would…”

“I’m sorry, really.”

Futaba opened her eyes, blinking quickly. Then she blinked again. “Why are _you_ blushing…?”

Kou resisted the urge to hide his face. “Shut up, I’m just embarrassed for you.”

“Is that it?” She sat up on his legs and glanced at her diary, open to the last page. Futaba blushed again and her fists flexed under Kou’s hands. “I can’t believe you would open my diary to get back at me.”

“Hey, I was curious too.”

“I’m the one who confessed to you first, loser, how dare you make excuses!”

Kou struggled to a seated position, keeping Futaba in his lap when she refused to move. “I was still curious about your middle school self. We were different people back then.”

Futaba tilted her head. She lifted her hand to brush back Kou’s bangs, tucking his hair behind his ear. Her thumb stroked his cheek, slowly, caressing, and Kou wanted to kiss her immediately. She grinned suddenly. “You’re right… you were _totally_ different. Forget this stingy Kou of now, I want my first love back,” sighed Futaba dramatically. She clasped her hands at his nape, leaning in. “My first love Tanaka.”

Kou’s hands flexed on her hips involuntarily. Futaba grinned again. “Ah, is _that_ it? Tanaka?”

“Shut up,” said Kou.

“Should I, Tanaka?” She leaned in and pressed her lips against his cheek, brushing her nose against his ear. He was suddenly self-conscious of the sweat from unpacking the whole day. And then, Futaba kissed him, and he was only conscious of her.

“Hey, Futaba…” whispered Kou. She wasn’t smiling any more, merely watching his face. Studying him like she was committing him to memory. He cupped her face and pressed his mouth against hers with a clinging hunger. “I love you.”

“I love you, Tanaka,” she whispered against his mouth, and it pulled his heartstrings taut.


End file.
